Labor Intensive

Illinois Town Becomes A Rallying Point For Striking Workers And Their Backers

November 11, 1994|By David Moberg. Special to the Tribune.

DECATUR, Ill. — A large middle-age man with short-cropped hair stood in the middle of the wide bridge that passes through A.E. Staley's smoke-belching corn processing plant in this central Illinois prairie town.

This was once the cry of the Industrial Workers of the World, the militant Wobblies, who stirred fear in the captains of American industry in the first two decades of this century. But Brian Elam didn't have Wobblies on his mind on this cloudy fall Saturday afternoon. He was simply speaking from his heart. He was a union man himself, and he had traveled all the way from Kansas City, Mo., to join in this march of roughly 5,000 union members and sympathizers.

They had gathered to support Decatur workers now locked in three long conflicts with multinational employers-an American-owned heavy equipment maker: Caterpillar; a Japanese-owned tiremaker: Bridgestone/Firestone; and a British-owned food conglomerate: Tate & Lyle, the owner of Staley.

Workers in the big Decatur factories of these companies had been under pressure for years. They had made concessions before and cooperated with management to boost efficiency. Then they were all startled to find, during an economic recovery when the three companies were making healthy profits, that management demanded still more concessions. Staley workers protested while continuing to work, then were locked out of their jobs 16 months ago. UAW members at Caterpillar struck over unfair labor practices last June, and Firestone workers walked out in a contract dispute in August. Normally somnolent Decatur had become the epicenter of a labor relations earthquake.

As the shock waves went out, union members elsewhere felt the tremor and recognized it.

"We believe the only way for unions to survive is for all workers to stand together," Elam said. "It's obvious how the strength here is in all unions coming together in one big union. It doesn't matter where you pay dues. It's one big fight."

He wouldn't have gotten much of an argument from this crowd, gathered on the lawn near the UAW hall in front of a big blue sound truck loaned by the Teamsters. Defiant messages were everywhere, emblazoned on hundreds of placards and T-shirts, most of them red, the Cat worker color of solidarity:

As business has gone international, so now has labor, with signs appealing for the labor rights in the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights.

This was a thoroughly "middle" crowd-middle-age, Middle West and struggling to hold on to middle-class incomes, won over many years of hard union bargaining and strikes. This was culturally "middle America" as well, mostly white and with lots of American flags flying amidst references to POW/MIAs and hunting. There were quite a few families with kids, including women like Donna Sperry, who described herself as "a union spouse with an attitude," always on the lookout for "scabs."

Republicans would have found slim pickings here. Yet even though Decatur's Democratic state senator, Penny Severns, the losing candidate for Lieutenant Governor, was warmly received, there were grumblings about Democrats as well.

Firestone worker David Frazier was "disheartened" that President Clinton didn't work harder for a law that would have banned permanent replacement for strikers.

"It's hard to tell Democrats from Republicans anymore," he lamented.

Tension beneath the surface

For all the fiery rhetoric, there was a festive mood. People cheered as each new check for the strike fund from a steelworker or railway local union was announced. They applauded a delegation of Flint, Mich., autoworkers, who had just won a strike against overwork and excessive overtime. They whooped at the news that Miller Brewing Co., one of Staley's biggest customers, would terminate its contracts with the company. Staley supporters, joined by Miller union members, had pressured the big brewer to live up to its union marketing image.

Yet there was also an undercurrent of tension. On June 4 police had arrested 48 protestors who had sat down in front of Staley plant gates. Then on June 25, at the last big march, police sprayed sitting workers with pepper gas. After that a court injunction limited picketers at both Staley and Firestone, but this march was routed to go past both factories. Decatur police were deployed throughout the city, in buses and garbage trucks, some ready with riot gear, others in standard uniforms or, according to union monitors, wearing red T-shirts to blend in with marchers. Union leaders, who kept the protest plans secret, urged everyone to remain non-violent.